Time
by Haiti2013
Summary: Arthur and Francis fight, but that's the way it's always been. Arthur never really thought anything of it. No matter what they said to each other, someone would apologize and they would just go on being friends again. Sometimes, Arthur wants a little more than that, but he can't bring himself to say it, but it's good enough for now. However, what happens when his time runs out?
1. Chapter 1

**_Well, hello there~_**

**_This is different than what I usually do, so please bear with me...lol, bears :)_**

**_Okay, so this has been sitting on my laptop for a while_**

**_And I'm not exactly sure where it's going, but I think it could be pretty good..._**

**_I'd really like to hear what you guys think, so please review!_**

**_Enjoy._**

* * *

12:00 PM

"Fine," answered Arthur. "Why don't we just have dinner at my house?" he asked hesitantly. He just knew this guy was going to make a big deal out of nothing. As if on cue, the Frenchman's deep blue eyes grew to the size of quarters.

"Seriously?" replied Francis. "YOU'RE asking ME out?"

"I'm not really asking you out," Arthur pointed out, matter-of-factly. "We both have to eat and I simply suggested that we do it together."

"That's not the only 'it' I wish we would do together, "Francis winked back. Arthur frowned in a futile attempt to prevent himself from blushing.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he snapped.

"Aw, but it's so happy there," the French boy smirked.

"Whatever," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Are you coming or what?" Francis smiled at him, but shrugged.

"I don't know, I may be busy," he responded coyly.

"What do you mean 'busy'? You just said that you weren't doing anything later!" Arthur shot back, exasperated. Francis continued to smile at the slightly irritated Englishman.

"As of now, no. But who knows? I might just get a better offer and you said it yourself, it's not really a date." Now, Arthur was getting angry.

"A better offer? Does that mean you aren't coming?"

"Not necessarily, it just means that you should probably try a little harder to convince me."

"I'm not going to beg, you bloody wanker!" By now Arthur was invested in this dinner, he was going to have it whether this annoying idiot was going or not. "Just tell me if you're going to be there!"

"Beg? I would never suggest such a thing! Although, now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind seeing you on your knees," acknowledged Francis, slowly biting his lower lip.

"Uh, well, I...it's not-" tried Arthur, but he really couldn't focus when Francis insisted on watching him so seductively. "Stop it!"

Francis looked confused.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me! I'm not going to sleep with you!" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"What on earth are you talking about, you silly Englishman? We are trying to talk about dinner, please get your mind out of the gutter," he replied slyly. Arthur face palmed and shook his head in defeat. There was just no reasoning with this guy.

"This is the last time I'm asking. Do you want to have dinner at my house?" He was determined not to let the French bastard make him lose his temper, at least not again.

"Are you cooking dinner?"

"Yea, I was actually thinking that you could cook."

"What? What kind of date is that?"

"It's not a date!"

"I'm not cooking."

"Neither am I."

"Well of course not! I am in no mood to go to the hospital today."

"Hey, my cooking isn't that bad!"

"Please, you're banned from the fresh market."

"Who needs them and their fresh 'ingredients'?" Arthur stressed sarcastically.

"People who cook edible food," Francis responded bluntly. "So this is what you're going to do. You're going to call this number," he asserted, handing Arthur a business card for a French restaurant. "And you're going to order an amazing dinner for two."

"I don't want to order out," Arthur remarked, holding the business card as if it disgusted him.

"Well that's too bad because it's happening," Francis replied sternly. Even though he was acting confident, he was a little worried that pushing Arthur too hard may cause him to lash out and cancel the dinner. He breathed a small sigh of relief when Arthur nodded.

"Fine, ok," the Englishman resigned. "So I'll see you at seven?"

"Maybe," smiled Francis as he turned around and left. Arthur simply sat there watching him go. Oh, how that French bastard infuriated him!

6:30 PM

Arthur was driving home with the ordered food placed in the passenger seat. He had to admit that it smelled good, well, good for French food. Soon, he pulled up into his driveway and entered his home, Arthur then placed the food on the kitchen counter and looked around his dining room. He had set up a single round table with two chairs covered with a white tablecloth and a small floral centerpiece in the middle. He smirked to himself, that Frog was always getting on him about not having a single romantic bone in his body, well tonight, he was going to eat his words. He had called Elizaveta to help him decorate and he thought they had done a pretty good job. She suggested that he put up candles, but he didn't want a bloody fire hazard on his hands. When he was around Francis he did stupid things and he decided not to put his flat in jeopardy tonight. With a quick glance to his watch, Arthur realized that he should probably start getting ready. He glanced at the dining room one more time and then headed for the shower.

6:50

To bow tie or not to bow tie? Arthur thought as he finished his wardrobe. He stared at himself in the mirror as he tried the bow tie out and sighed. It pained him how relatively plain he felt as he examined his features. He thought about how easy this would have been for Francis, the man was an Adonis and everything came so easy to him. It made Arthur wonder why the Frenchman was even interested in him in the first place, when he could literally have anyone he wanted. He figured that the bastard liked the chase and that was why the Briton was afraid to sleep with him. _If he gets what he wants, he won't want me anymore,_ resigned Arthur and even though he would probably never admit it to Francis, Arthur enjoyed his company. Even when he was being a perv, the Frenchman had a way of making Arthur feel wanted, something he hadn't felt in a long time and if that were to suddenly just stop...the Englishman didn't even want to think about it.

7:00

His phone alarm went off. Arthur got up and went to the kitchen to pour himself a shot. He didn't know why he was so nervous, it was just Francis. They hung out all the time. For a couple of minutes, he simply paced around his kitchen, continuously checking his watch until he forced himself to stop. _That bastard's always late, you don't need to get all worked up, it's exactly what he wants._ Arthur tried to make himself calm down by grabbing a copy of Shakespeare's Hamlet and situating himself on the couch.

7:05

Arthur checked his cell for the fiftieth time. Nope, nothing. Was his phone even working? He made sure to turn up the volume to the maximum and put the phone in its charger.

7:09

_Where the hell is he?_ thought Arthur as he paced his living room. He turned on his computer and checked Francis' Facebook page. Not updated since this morning. _Great, that helps no one._ Arthur perused down Francis' page, _ugh why does that frog have so many friends? I should check his Twitter!_ The Englishman began to type rapidly into his keyboard. He surveyed Francis' twitter feed but found nothing but updates from Gilbert on the status of his awesomeness. Currently it was at max capacity. Before Arthur could even return to Facebook he got another update from Gilbert warning him that he was about be arrested for being too awesome. Arthur rolled his eyes. That guy could be rather full of himself.

7:22

His phone was broken. It had to be. Francis was probably trying to call him right now and he was missing it because of his fucking phone. Arthur took his phone out of charge and held it in his hands. It looked okay. He pressed a couple of buttons to make sure they were working. Everything checked out. Maybe there's something wrong with the network. He dialed Alfred's number.

"Hello?" Boomed a loud voice on the other line. Arthur hung up. _So the phone works, where the hell was Francis? _he thought. Suddenly his phone rang and he jumped a little, but then eased up when he saw that it was just Alfred, so he rejected the call. He tried not to think about Francis, that's exactly what the bastard wanted. He was late and probably hoping that Arthur was sitting around worrying about him. _Nope. I won't do it. I will not give him the satisfaction!_ His phone rang again and he couldn't help but get his hopes up. However, they were dashed again when he saw the caller ID-it was Alfred. He rejected it again.

"I should just eat without him," he resigned. Just then his phone rang again, it was Alfred. This time he picked up.

"I need this line clear, could you please stop harassing me!?"

"Whoa, you called me first!" the American retorted.

"Then, I started ignoring your calls, take a hint!" he finished as he hung up. _God, what is wrong with that guy?_

7:40

_Forty minutes? FORTY MINUTES? Was that bastard not coming? _Arthur thought as he looked at his phone for the millionth time. _No call, no text, nothing! Unbelievable! I should call him to tell him off! My time is valuable and I'm fucking starving, he can't just keep me waiting like this!_ he thought angrily. Then the doorbell rang and he jumped. He got up and marched to the door, yanking it open.

"IT'S ABOUT GODDAMN TIME!" he yelled. A young teenage boy stood at the door in his delivery uniform, he looked terrified.

"I'm sorry! There was traffic, but I promise the flowers are fine. Please don't call my manager, I just got this job," he begged.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," admitted Arthur, recognizing his mistake. "What flowers?" he asked, noticing a bouquet of roses on the floor behind the teen.

The boy nervously checked his clipboard. "Um, I have a dozen pre-paid roses for a Mr. Arthur Kirkland."

"I didn't order any roses," said Arthur, confused.

"Well, this is the address," declared the boy, rechecking his clipboard. He then looked up and smiled at Arthur. "Someone must be trying to impress you."

"I suppose..." Arthur agreed, taking the roses. "Thank you."

"Have a wonderful night," waved the boy as he left and Arthur closed the door behind him. He placed the roses in a vase. Who would- his thoughts were interrupted by his ring tone. It was Francis.

"What do you want?" he asked, grumpily.

"Do you like them?" asked a suave voice on the other end.

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you got them." Arthur looked at the roses and face palmed. Of course. But that still didn't explain...

"How did you know that I got them?" Arthur stepped back outside and searched around.

"Huh?"

"You heard me you French bastard, I literally just got the flowers. Are you spying on me?" demanded Arthur. He was back inside now, searching through his plants. "Do you have a video camera hidden somewhere?" As Arthur contemplated where to search next the voice on the other line fell silent.

"Hello?"

"I can't believe I didn't think of that," the Frenchman seemed to be muttering to himself.

"What?"

"Oh, um, you're welcome."

"Wait, what?"

"You know, for the flowers?" Francis reminded him.

"No, what did you say before?"

"You have got to stop living in the past."

"Forget it. "The other side fell silent, Arthur wasn't sure how to bring up the dinner without sounding whiny or like he wanted to see him. Because he didn't. Right.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"What do you mean?" _Did he forget? Oh god, did I make the whole thing up?_

"I thought, well you said, aren't we having dinner tonight?" he asked weakly.

"Why yes, we are," agreed Francis. "And I must admit I am pretty excited." Arthur's stomach fluttered a little when he heard those words, but he tried to keep cool. He was mad.

"Then, why aren't you here?"

"_Mais ma cher_, didn't you get my text?"

"What text?"

"I told you that I had to help Gilbert out with something and if you didn't mind, could we move the dinner to eight?"

"I didn't get a text!"

"_C'est vrai?_ But I'm sure I sent one," his voice fell quiet for a minute as if he was checking something, then he groaned. "_Mon petit chouchou, je suis tres desole_, I've been having trouble with my phone all week. I didn't mean to keep you waiting, I feel terrible. I'm on my way right now."

"Whatever, just get over here."

"I'm glad to hear that you missed me," chuckled Francis. Arthur was glad he wasn't there to see him blush.

"I didn't miss you, we had an appointment. Where I'm from it's rude to miss an appointment and keep a party waiting."

"Well, whether you missed me or not, I'm glad you waited. It means alot to me, _mon coeur._"

"Get here soon or I'm eating without you."

8:40

He had been lied to. Stood up. Made a fool. _There hadn't really been a text; he just didn't want to own up to not showing up. I'm so stupid for believing him._ Arthur got up off his couch and put the food in the fridge. He wasn't even hungry anymore, he just wanted to go to bed and forget this whole day. As he headed to his room, his phone rang. He cursed at himself when he felt his heart rate increase. He checked his cell, it was just Gilbert. He and Francis were probably having a good laugh at his expense right now. He ignored the call and turned off his phone. He didn't want to hear from anyone else tonight.

* * *

**_A/N: Thanks for reading! :)_**


	2. Chapter 2

9:58

Arthur woke to the sensation of Gilbert shaking him.

"GET UP! WE'VE GOT TO GO!" the albino yelled. The Englishman was still very disoriented as the German proceeded to pick him up and drag him out his bedroom door.

"Put me down, you git!" he screamed as he began to realize what was going on. Gilbert obliged and dropped the grumpy Brit on the floor. Arthur jumped up and straightened himself out. "How did you even get in here?"

"I broke in," Gilbert shrugged as if it were obvious.

"How is that even possible?"

"We don't have time to play twenty questions. We've got to get to the hospital!"

"What? Why?"

"Well, you see, the thing is-" he began, but trailed off, as if he couldn't form the right words. Arthur crossed his arms and glared at the albino still pretty pissed to be awoken from his sleep.

"Just say it!"

"Francis is hurt," he admitted gently, worried that the Brit might freak out but Arthur didn't actually hear the whole sentence. After he heard the word Francis, his ears sort of went deaf. _Francis...that bastard, what did he want? Probably wants to explain why he stood me up and sent his buddy over here to convince me to go meet him. I should go, just to see him try to beg for forgiveness and then see his face when I reject him. _The Englishman liked to think this way but he knew all too well, that with a couple words from that Frog, he'd be weak in the knees was mad that the mere sound of his name was still able to elicit such emotions from within him. No. He didn't want to deal with this anymore. It hurt too much.

"I'm going to bed," the Brit murmured as he tried to go back to his room.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Francis is in the hospital!" Arthur took this information in. It worried him a bit, but he wouldn't put it past the Frenchman to try to manipulate his emotions to get him to forgive him. He wasn't falling for it this time.

"Don't lie to me. If he didn't want to come, he should have said so. He didn't have to send his buddy to lie for him," Arthur replied sternly. Gilbert looked at him in shock.

"Are you serious? I mean, I always thought you were a bit of a prick, but I just assumed it was because you needed to get laid!"

"You thought I was a prick?! You're one to talk! Breaking into people's houses and spouting lies," said Arthur dismissively. He really didn't want to deal with the German bastard's asinine comments tonight. He headed back to the room but the trip didn't last very long. Soon, he felt the sensation of being tackled to the ground. The albino sat on his stomach as he struggled to get free.

"Listen up, you hobo, I don't even want to be here. I should be by best friend's side while he's in the hospital but Ludwig said I had to I get you, so you're coming with me. Now, we can do this the easy way or we can do it my way. I'm good with either, but my way might put you in the hospital too."

"How can you think I'm homeless when you are literally standing in my house?"

"Why do you focus on the insignificant things? You're boyfriend's in the hospital!"

"He's _not_ my boyfriend and he's _not_ in the hospital!"

"None of those statements were true!"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I'm not calling you to dinner!"

"Get off me, you bullox!"

"Mein Gott, you are a _stubborn_ one," noted Gilbert as he sat on the Englishman's abdomen. Arthur just stared at the albino, hoping he would burst into flames, but he just sat there. Eventually, he Brit simply sighed, defeated.

"Listen, I know you're trying to help your friend out but I really (something, I'll figure it out later)"

"Why don't you call Ludwig? Do you think he'd lie for Francis?" Arthur hadn't thought of that.

"Ok, I will," he sighed. Gilbert nodded. Arthur waited for the German to get up but he simply sat there as if the phone were going to magically call his brother itself. "Um, you have to get off me," he remarked condescendingly. "Unless you think the phone can magically fly into my hands."

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, getting up. "Your belly is so soft."

"We can't all live at the gym," the Brit snapped.

"You don't have to live there, but you could visit," he retorted. Arthur cursed under his breath as he went to retrieve his phone. After turning it on, an influx of missed calls and messages filled his phone. Gilbert had called him the most but there were also calls from Alfred, Matthew and Antonio. All the messages had exclamation points and were pervasive with capital letters, they ranged from "Where are you?" to "THIS IS SERIOUS! PICK UP YOUR PHONE!" Arthur started to get seriously worried as he dialed Ludwig's number. He held his breath as the phone rang.

"Hello?" answered a rough male voice.

"Ludwig? This is Arthur."

"Oh," his voice softened a little. "Did Gilbert tell you? Are you on your way?"

"So, he's really there?" he questioned softly.

"Yea..."

"How is he?" Arthur asked, realizing the reality of the situation.

"He's unconscious right now, they say he probably has a concussion."

"What happened?" he asked, biting down on the inside of his lip. _It couldn't be that bad,_ he reasoned. _Nothing bad ever happens to Francis._

"I'm not exactly sure, the doctor's say it was some kind of accident..." _Accident?_

"Ludwig, what happened?" The voice on the other line was completely silent.

"Ludwig?" Nothing.

"LUDWIG?" _What the hell is going on?_ Still no response.

"Answer me, you bloody kraut!"

"Sorry, Arthur," the German finally replied. "The doctors were talking to me."

"What are they saying?"

"Well...um...it doesn't look good."

"What do you mean?"

"Francis may be-sorry, they say I've got to turn off my cell."

"Why?"

"Hospital rules. Just get here quickly."

"I'm on my way." Arthur hung up the phone and turned around. "Gilbert-" he began. The albino was sitting on his couch leafing through a photo album, every now and then he'd take a picture of a photo with his cell, at the sound of his name he looked up.

"Yea?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Looking at pictures?" he asked as though it was pretty obvious.

"Why?"

"Isn't that what pictures are for?"

"But why are you taking pictures of my pictures?"

"To have on my phone," the albino replied as if the Englishman was an idiot. "Why else would I do that?" Arthur shook his head; he didn't have time for this weirdness right now.

"We've got to get to the hospital. Let's go!" He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, but Gilbert stopped him.

"You're not going like that."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"I'm not the one leaving the house in a dress."

"This isn't a dress," Arthur snapped. "It's a night gown."

"Gown, dress, same difference," Gilbert shrugged. "Give me your keys, I'll pull the car around while you change."

"Wait, how did you get here?"

"I took a cab."

"But what about your-"

"Can we stop playing 20 questions? You have clothes to change, and I," he asserted, quickly grabbing the keys out of the Brit's hands. "Have a car to get." Arthur wanted to protest but the albino was already gone and decided it wasn't worth the time. He quickly changed into his favorite vest and pants, grabbed his cell and was out the door.

10:36

They rode in silence. Even though he was in a hurry, Gilbert was being unusually attentive to the road, slowing down at yellow lights and coming to a complete halt at stop signs. Arthur watched curiously as the red eyed man stared at the road with the most angry expression, but it was mixed with something else. _Frustration? Sadness? Guilt? _Arthur couldn't figure it out but it was definitely there.

10:42

It was taking way too long to get to the hospital. The wait was agonizing and Arthur was getting anxious.

"Can't you go any faster?"

"We're almost there," Gilbert assured.

"We'd be _there _if you drove faster," he retorted, crossing his arms.

"Listen, I know you're worried, but getting in a car accident won't make it any better." The Brit studied the German who was acting way too serious. It scared him.

"Since when do you care about speed limits?" he questioned. "You're the guy who got kicked out of Amsterdam for going too fast." Gilbert smiled slightly at this but kept quiet, only increasing Arthur's anxiety.

Soon they pulled in to the hospital parking lot and Arthur was out of the car before the driver could complete stop. He burst through the door and immediately located front desk.

"I'm looking for a Francis Bonnefoy," he told the woman typing away at her computer.

"Name?"

"I said Francis Bonnefoy," Arthur repeated, causing her to sigh.

"_Your _name."

"Arthur Kirkland," he said as Gilbert walked up behind him.

"What's your relation to the patient?"

"He's my-well, he's-we're," the Brit attempted. The German shook his head at the flustered gentleman.

"They're _lovers_," he explained to the receptionist.

"What?! No, that's no it!"

"Then, what is it?" the woman asked.

"Yea Artie, what is it?" the German smirked.

"I don't have time for these shenanigans! I need to see him."

"Yea, we both do," explained the albino. "Where is he now?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"You aren't allowed to know his room number at the moment."

"Okay, so why don't you tell me the number so I can be sure to avoid it. Wouldn't want me wandering in there by accident."

"Sorry, that's against hospital rules."

"It's against the rules to let people see their injured friends?" asked Arthur sarcastically. "I thought this was hospital, not a bloody prison!"

"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Kirkland, but when a patient is in critical condition only the immediate family can see him."

"Wait, critical condition?" demanded Gilbert. "No, I was here like an hour ago, I mean it was bad but the doctors said he should be fine."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Bonnefoy's condition has deteriorated over that time period."

"No, no," the German refused, shaking his head. "No, you must have the wrong guy. Check again."

"I have checked sir."

"I said, check, again," he growled, red eyes ablaze.

"Who exactly are you?" the receptionist asked.

"I'm that guy's best friend and I'm not going to let you sit there and lie to me," he claimed, jumping over the desk and attempting to take over the woman's computer. "You're obviously not going to check so I'll do it."

"Sir, get away from my desk or I'll be forced to call security!"

"Bring it on girlie, don't forget to call an ambulance for when I kick their asses," the German shrugged, typing angrily into the computer.

"Well, we're technically already in a hospital," Arthur remarked. "So we wouldn't need an ambulance to-"

"Not helping," Gilbert snapped. His vision remained steadfast on the computer screen as the receptionist tried to call for security. Arthur backed away from the scene and headed deeper into the hospital.

11:16

Arthur was lost. _Why did this place have to be so bloody big? _He thought an official place like this should have signs everywhere but every corner he turned greeted him with a new white wall. He tried to ask someone for directions but all the nurses and doctors were always rushing past him, taking care of someone, Arthur wanted to start entering random rooms, in hopes of luckily stumbling upon Francis but decided against it. He didn't need to interrupt someone's surgery or walk in on some woman giving birth. So he ended up walking around for a little while longer before he reached an elevator. The Englishman studied the buttons; all they had were their respective numbers by them, no information as to what was on the floors. He sighed and randomly chose 3. He rode in silence and got off on the floor. Once he stepped off the elevator, the strong scent of oatmeal hit his nose. Even though he didn't particularly like the dish, his stomach rumbled. _I can't get distracted! I've got to find Francis! _He tried to focus but his abdomen protested. _Goddamnit, why I am I so bloody hungry? _His scowl softened a little when he remembered why he had missed dinner. _Francis..._he sighed, but he shook his head. There was no time to waste. He moved through the floor, eventually finding the cafeteria. The gentleman searched around for someone who looked like they might be able to give him directions. _Directions? To where? I don't even know where I'm going? What am I going to say? Yes, hi, I just need to know how to get to my boyfriend's room, he's-woah, no! Not my boyfriend. Why did I think that? Francis and I are-_

"Ve~well do you have pasta? This oatmeal is terrible!" a voice whined and Arthur perked up. _Feliciano?_

"Sir, this is not a five star restaurant," the cafeteria lady deadpanned.

"Well, do you have something that's fucking edible? It's like you dipshits are trying to send us to the hospital by feeding us this fucking poison! No wonder no one ever comes out of this place!" Lovino spat.

"Sir, you don't have to eat here," the lady growled through gritted teeth.

"Like fuck I don't! No one can eat here, you don't fucking have food!"

"Lovi, you don't have to be mean. It's not fault their food's worse than Arthur's," Feliciano said.

"No one's food is worse than Arthur's."

"Well, no one bloody asked you did they, you pretentious prat!" the Brit snapped, walking over to the two Italians.

"Arthur, is that you?" grinned the younger brunette.

"About fucking time," Lovino glared. "We've been waiting."

"Ve~Luddy, was wondering where you were?" Feliciano asked before the smile disappeared from his lips. "Do you know about Francis?"

"Of course he does, you asshat! Why do you think he's here?"snapped his brother. "To eat the fucking delicious oatmeal? I mean, it is better than his food-"

"You've seen Francis?" Arthur asked Feliciano, deciding to deal with Lovino later.

"Only for a little while," the brunette responded, his bottom lip trembling before he started to cry. "Oh, it's terrible! I don't want him to die! He can be a little weird sometimes but he's still my friend! I'd miss him too much and I don't think he'd go to heaven. Wouldn't that be terrible? Did you know Francis could be a little perverted? At least that's what Ludwig tells me! I just thought he was being really nice and-" The rest of the Italians words seemed to fade into the background. _Die? Who said anything about dying? Is that even possible? Francis can't die...he can't. No. I mean, people die, it happens but...he can't just leave. No, Feliciano's just being dramatic. That boy talks a mile a minute and probably has no control over the words that leave that mouth of his._

"Can you take me to Ludwig?" the Brit asked, interrupting the Italian's continuing monologue.

"Ve~of course! He's in the waiting room," Feliciano smiled.

"Why should we?" Lovino scowled.

"Why do you have to be so negative all the time?" his brother scolded. "Follow me, Arthur." They quickly left the cafeteria, both brothers tossing their oatmeal into the trash on their way out. Feliciano seemed to bounce as he led them back to the waiting room but after a couple of minutes of wondering in the halls, he appeared to slow down. Arthur watched anxiously as they turned another corner just to end up in another empty hallway.

"You're lost," Lovino snapped.

"No, we just-it's just-we have to-yea, we're lost," his brother admitted sheepishly.

"Are you serious?" the Brit asked incredulously.

11:31

_So Francis could be dying and I'm stuck in this fucking maze with tweedle dum and tweedle dumber, _Arthur thought angrily as they turned another corner.

"Why don't we just ask for directions?" asked Feliciano.

"What are you? Some fucking girl?" spat his brother. "Who the Hell gets lost in a hospital?"  
"Do you have any better ideas?" asked the irritated Brit.

"Yes, I do," Lovino assured. "In fact, I know where to go." The Italian took off down the hallway and the others followed. The brunette managed to find the stairs and led them up a couple of flights.

"I remember the waiting room being on the same floor," remarked Feliciano.

"Yea, this is a short cut," his brother explained.

"But we're on the sixth floor," argued Arthur.

"Goddammit, you fucking limey! I _said _I knew where I was going so why don't you shut up, okay?"

"Don't tell me to shut up, you're the one who's bloody lost!"

"I'm not lost! I know where exactly where I am!"

"Where are we?"

"We're...we're," Lovino looked around. "We're obviously on the sixth floor!"

"For Pete's sake, I don't have time for this! I need to find Francis!"

"Well you're wasting your time," the older brother claimed. "We don't know where Francis is, they moved him to the critical wing over an hour ago."

"I _know_ that," Arthur shot back. "I just wanted to ask Ludwig if he might have an idea where that wing is."

"Why do you care so much? I thought you hated that guy."

"What? Oh yea, I do, so much," he said, unconvincingly.

"Really?" asked Feliciano. "I thought you two were-"

"Do you know where Ludwig is or not?"

"What do you think we're doing now? Enjoying a lovely stroll through the sick wing of the hospital?" Lovino asked, sarcastically.

"Ludwig?" pondered the younger brother. "He's in the waiting room, I'll take you!" He began walking down the hall before realizing he was lost again. "Um, wait, which way is it?"

* * *

_**A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed this story, you guys are the best! :)**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_


End file.
